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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518021">'Tis the Season</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookzz/pseuds/spookzz'>spookzz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/M, arrogant sherlock, mild sexy times, this is really old but oh well</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:02:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookzz/pseuds/spookzz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You're stressed and freezing and he's got just the right experiment in mind to try and fix it.</p>
<p>Reader/Sherlock</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>'Tis the Season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this back in 2012 on Lunaescence but...figured I'd move it here. I'm oddly proud of it. The rest of my works? Not so much. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is absolutely freezing outside. And not the good kind of freezing that makes you want to bundle up in layers and jump around in the freshly formed snow; no, this was the miserable kind, the kind that makes you want to resign your occupation to that of an icicle just so you can stop shivering long enough to get to a cab.</p>
<p>It didn’t help that your boss had kept you overtime tonight. It was Christmas Eve, damn it, and the asshole couldn’t have allowed you just one night off. <em>”Well you’ve got Christmas off, you whiny twit, what more do you want?”</em> he’d sneered behind his ridiculously large mustache, all the while knowing that he was going to be acquiring a whole <em>week</em> off for his break–something that was only possible because he was making <em>you</em> work more hours.</p>
<p>Ah well, no use dwelling on it. Your night shift is over and you are finally headed home. You’d forgotten to bring your gloves with you so you haphazardly shove your icy fingers into the pockets of your large coat, hoping that you would survive in this winter weather long enough to make it home your regular skin color.</p>
<p>By time you hail a cab and finally get home, you’re shivering from head to toe. The cabbie hadn’t had heating–apparently it had broken at some point that night, much to your luck–and due to your street being closed because of the snow on the road, he’d only been able to drop you off a block away. You’d managed to walk home without breaking anything (after slipping on the ice at least three times), but you're soaked and freezing right down to your bones. You're so cold that you had trouble finding the key to your flat, even, which was pretty pathetic if you said so yourself.</p>
<p>You’re so exhausted that you have little concern for much else aside from curling up by the fire and forgetting anything and everything pertinent to life. You want to just succumb to whatever thoughtless, brainless activity you could and continue to do it for as long as you were physically able to. Physical attractiveness be gone, you’ll be damned if you are going to be doing anything for the next few days, and that probably included showering.</p>
<p>You throw open your door and toss your material possessions to the side, deciding that the proper placement of them required much more energy than you are currently willing to exert. Your scarf, purse, keys and other belongings clatter to the floor with a large amount of ruckus, but you’re far from caring as you slam the door closed behind you. Immediately you begin to strip, not surprised upon finding your current boyfriend sitting in his chair by the lit fire.</p>
<p>Boyfriend is a loose term–you two aren’t exactly official (not that he had a Facebook to declare it on in the first place), and you’re not sure if your relationship is conventional enough to assign a word to it anyway. That same conventionalism is evident the moment you fall flat on your face in front of him, crawling expertly toward the fire while he sits motionless in the same position he’d been in when you entered.</p>
<p>You groan as the warmth licks at your icy skin, instantly soothing you. You aren’t sure how long you lay there, clad in only your shirt and pants, but it’s long enough that you begin to wonder if your boyfriend really is sitting as still as the silence says he is. Popping open one eye, you’re met with an empty chair, the newspaper he’d formerly been reading left folded neatly on the seat. How on Earth had he managed to sneak away so damn silently?</p>
<p>You’re on the brink of deciding searching for him was far too much effort when you feel the first brush of fingertips against your cheek. Your eyes snap open but he anticipates this, and you find your eyesight hindered by the sudden addition of material wrapping around your head. It feels like a scarf, and as you raise your hands to check for sure, you’re met with a resounding smack to your left one while large hands pin your wrists by your sides.</p>
<p>Hot breath fans across your ear as you lay still, and a familiar voice whispering roughly against your freezing skin. “You will not move one inch until I give you permission, do you understand?”</p>
<p>You barely manage a nod, but he seems to think you compliant enough. His hands tighten momentarily around your wrists before slowly releasing them, as if testing the water to make sure you have no plans to defy his previous instructions. When you don’t struggle, you can hear his lips pull into a tight smirk, one that you’re a bit jealous of not being able to see since it looks so damn good on him.</p>
<p>“From the large amount of red dusting your cheeks I can safely assume you’re quite aroused,” he purrs into your ear, and you do all you can to stop that shiver from racing up your spine, or at the very least try to make sure he doesn’t notice it.</p>
<p>Naturally, he does.</p>
<p>“But that doesn’t mean we can’t check for a solid line of proof, am I correct?” He doesn’t wait for a response, instead using your lack of senses to brazenly shove his hand down the front of your slacks. The button pops free from the force and had you any coherence left in your brain, you probably would have cursed at him for ruining yet <em>another</em> pair of your pants.</p>
<p>Forgoing any stealth, you aren’t surprised when you feel the first brush of his fingertips against your swollen button, and his resounding laugh provides a great insight onto the cheeky grin you’re sure he’s wearing. Lack of surprise from his actions, however, does not stop you from practically jumping out of your skin, and were there any doubt of your body’s arousal, the slickness on his fingers squashes it.</p>
<p>“Not very talkative tonight, I see,” he states, and you realize for the first time yourself that you’re being awfully submissive. Call it a rebellious streak or what will you, but you open your mouth to finally retaliate in an effort to prove one of his declarations wrong. Unfortunately, before a syllable can be uttered, you feel his lips pressing unkindly to yours.</p>
<p>“Ah, ah, ah,” he murmurs against them, curling his fingers up against you and causing you to release a strangled moan against his lips. “I never said I <em>wanted</em> you to speak, did I?” He busies himself with attacking your lips feverishly, and you find yourself amazed once again by the skills he somehow owns regardless of you being his first. How he can manage to work his lips like that against yours so sinfully, so <em>deliciously</em>, you have no idea, but you’ve never made a complaint about it before and you aren’t about to start now.</p>
<p>“S-Sherlock.” You finally manage to groan out his name, rolling your hips into his which are placed strategically right above yours. “S-stop with the g-games. I’m freezing and bloody horny, f-for fuck’s s-sake.” You’re a bit embarrassed by the chattering of your teeth, but you manage to pull it off sexily enough you think. Not that Sherlock would ever say anything about it, regardless.</p>
<p>He chuckles at your admission, and for a moment you feel like an amateur beneath his touch, even though you’re quite sure you’ve been with more partners than he has. You purse your lips and he seems to read your mind; you’re not quite sure if you’re grateful for this or extremely annoyed with his talent. His fingers follow the curve of your jaw smoothly, and he’s paused in his actions downstairs to admire the way you look.</p>
<p>“Few times do I give into someone <em>else’s</em> demands, but I suppose I can make a rather light exception…just this once.”</p>
<p>Before you have time to say anything, you’re arching your back as his fingers finally push inside of you, curling expertly as he works you. The lack of eyesight adds to the thrill and heightens your senses, causing you to gasp louder than what is usual every time he does something else pleasurable that you can’t quite see. You can hear the rustle of fabric occasionally but otherwise he is so good at being quiet that you don’t find yourself knowledgeable to what he’s doing until you’re already putty beneath his hands.</p>
<p>“You’ve been needing this,” he murmurs and you can’t make your mouth close long enough to reply, his fingers pumping in and out and occasionally scissoring <em>just right</em> and… “I’ve observed you for the past few days and made note of your restlessness, your anxiousness, the way you fidget in your seat and how you stare at me when you think I’m not looking. Well I’m <em>always</em> looking, darling, and you should know by now there is not a thing you can hide from me.”</p>
<p>The ripping of more material makes its way to your ears, and cool air runs across your now exposed chest. More buttons lost, another piece of clothing ruined–but somehow, you don’t mind.</p>
<p>“Consider this a little…<em>experiment</em> in ways to temporarily relieve a dire amount of stress.”</p>
<p>And then he curls his fingers again and you’re all bliss, vision full of bright white and explosions and you’re not quite sure what exactly it is you’re seeing but the combined pleasure he’s giving you <em>there</em> along with the tongue now running across the peak of your hardened nipples is <em>just enough</em>. God, you can’t hold back your moans anymore, or the thrusting of your hips, and you can hear the satisfaction in his smirk, or at least <em>imagine</em> it.</p>
<p>“Excellent,” he whispers huskily at your release, and you’re keen on just laying there for the rest of eternity, chest heaving up and down rhythmically while you ride out the aftermath of one wonderful-as-Hell orgasm. You’re considering it, until you feel the hard length pressing against your inner thigh and you’re all but lost, your body betraying your exhaustion as it revs into overdrive again. You momentarily have a fleeting thought of how you had planned on not doing anything when you got home tonight, but you quickly dissolve it.</p>
<p>After all, to be fair, you had said you wouldn’t be doing <em>anything</em>–not <em>anyone.</em></p>
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